From Bad to Worse
by Squiggy-dee
Summary: The world has gone to hell in a hand basket and now Dawn is left to find a place in this new way of life all on her own.
1. Chapter 1

From Bad to Worse

Disclaimer: I don't own Walking Dead or Buffy and I make no money from this fanfiction. This is in response to a challenge issued by MistressAshley.

Prologue

"I'm not sure we should be doing this Wills. We don't even know if Buffy is in hell, she could be in heaven. If anyone ever deserved a one way ticket to those pearly gates it was the Buffster."

"Normally I would agree, but Xander, Buffy did not die from normal means it was a portal to hell. Just like the one Angel was sent through. I can't even imagine what she must be going through. We have to save her! I have done all of the research and this is the only way."

"Bu but I thought An Angels body wu was sucked through the p portal. Buffy's bu body is here."

"That is because if he was sent to a different hell dimension. Not all hell dimensions can allow caporal forms. That is why only Buffy's soul was allowed to be taken. This is the only way, I know what I am talking about. And we are running out of time we have to do this now."

"Alright I guess you are right." reaching forward Xander took his candle from Willow while the others each took up a candle before surrounding the grave in the pre-determined order.

As Willow began but chant to Osiris Xander could not help but feel this could be a mistake. A growing sense of unease griped him as the spell progressed. As Willow's eyes turned to black the temperature seemed to drop by 20 degrees his breath misted in front of his face and he could not stop shivers. When snakes began to pour out Willow's open mouth he had no choice but to look away, unfortunately he made the mistake of looking down at Buffy's opened coffin. The only way the decomposing body could look more dead is if it was already a skeleton. In several places rotted skin peeled back to reveal muscle or bone or even teeth as was the case on the left side of her face. The only saving grace was that her eyes were closed, he didn't think he could handle seeing milky sunk in eyes.

Suddenly her hands which had been folded across her chest in an almost peaceful manner since the wake twitched. At first he could not believe his eyes, surely he had imagined it. But then hands moved again shaking slightly her body shifted in the coffin, her head swung slightly to the left and then right before her eyes open to reveal a shocking milky whiteness. He could only stare in horror as Buffy groaned while trying to sit up. Willow had said Buffy would heal when they brought her back, why did she still look like a corpse? What had gone wrong?

"Willow something is wrong. What do we do."

"I don't know why she did not heal completely, but that can wait for later. Right now we have to help her. Come here Buffy I will help you up." Willow said as she reached over to grab her hands, but once she grabbed Buffy grasping hands Buffy lunged at her and bit deeply into her shoulder.

With a startled cry Willow tried to throw herself backwards, but Buffy followed without releasing her grip landing on top of a very terrified Willow Rosenberg. Following the learned habits of the past Xander jumped forward into a situation without knowing or even thinking about the risks involved. He wrapped his arms around Buffy and tried to pull her off the still screaming witch. With tremendous effort he was able to pry her off, but the calm reprise he was hoping for never came as Buffy instead threw herself at him pushing him down to the ground as her mouth tried to reach his throat. He threw up his arm in an attempt to keep her from his neck wincing as blunt teeth bit into his forearm with enough strength to break the skin through his long sleeve shirt.

"Hey! Get off my boyfriend!" Anya screeched as she jumped on the pair knocking Buffy down and away from Xander. As they rolled away Xander staggered to his feet glancing behind him only long enough to see Tara tending to Willow before turning back to the struggling pair in front of him. Unfortunately those few precious seconds were all that was needed to tear his world apart forever. Before he could reach them Buffy's teeth latched onto Anya's neck and bit down hard. He could see the blood spraying from the wound as Buffy pulled out a chunk of flesh. Without thought he grabbed the closest shovel and swung with all his might, the impact of the shovel hitting Buffy's head sent shutters up his arm, but he kept on swinging, hitting her over and over again until she stopped moving. Letting the shovel fall to the ground he turned and dropped to his knees by Anya's side.

"Anya, oh god." The open gaping wound had stopped gushing blood and was now slowly oozing as the once bright eyes dimmed to the glazed over emptiness of death. Slipping his arms underneath her body he lifted her to his chest and cradled her close. "What have we done."

"Xander Wi Willow d doesn't look good, we have to get her to a hos hospital."

Gently laying her down Xander stood up and walked over to Tara and Willow. Looking around in a daze he could not believe how any of this could have happened. How could things go so wrong? Slowly he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone and in what seemed to be slow-motion he pressed down on three well-known buttons.

"911 please state your emergency. . ."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N a small little teaser chapter to get the ball rolling.


	2. Chapter 2

From Bad to Worse

Disclaimer: I don't own Walking Dead or Buffy and I make no money from this fan-fiction. This is in response to a challenge issued by MistressAshley.

Chapter 1

She was 17 today.

It was a strange thought that left her feeling oddly empty inside. Once a birthday would have meant cake and ice cream, balloons and friends with happy feelings all around, but that seems like it was a lifetime ago. Now it was just another day to try and stay alive, another day where she was all alone. Not that being alone was necessarily a bad thing all things considered. She had learned that lesson early on. When it was just her there were less mouths to worry about feeding, no need to worry about things being stolen from her, and most importantly no strange men trying to take advantage of her. After Spike died she had managed to keep moving on her own. The goal of reaching the CDC was really the only thing that was keeping her going, Spikes last words echoed in her mind when she thought about giving up, urging her to continue on to the CDC and not give up.

"Never give up pet." she groused in her best British impersonation peeking around the abandoned car at the building whose sign declared it to be Mikes gas'n'go.

This was the first convenience store she had stopped at since she'd passed the welcome to Alabama sign a few days ago. Entering any big building was a risk these days but she figured this one was small and out of the way enough that it might not have been hit too badly. Keeping low and moving as quietly as she could she walked the perimeter looking for walkers or any signs that other humans might be around. Some humans could be worse than walkers these days. Walkers were easy to understand, they were hungry, they wanted food, and they would eat you if they could catch you. Humans were more unpredictable, morality had taken a hike for several people she'd met. Some had been motivated by fear, and some were so morally deprived that she wondered if the end if the world was just the excuse they'd been waiting for to do whatever they wanted.

One man from 7 months earlier was the inspiration for this security precaution. She had always done a quick sweep for walkers, that was common sense and a good rule of survival, but at that time it hadn't really occurred to her to worry about her fellow humans. Meeting other survivors in the past had meant maybe sharing a campfire or swapping information on were to avoid going. So when she'd found a house that looked like it would be fairly easy to secure for the night she'd done a quick check of the perimeter and saw no walkers just a motorcycle that looked like it was being heavily used. This house was taken. She thought about leaving and finding another house but in the end decided against it. It was getting late, it would be dark soon and she needed shelter before then if possible. Besides this person might have valuable information about this area.

Choosing not to move on was a decision that still haunted her sometimes when she let herself dwell too long on that night. She'd been much more careful after that, avoiding any groups comprised solely of the opposite sex. In fact she'd avoided areas with signs of anyone living to such an extent that at one point she went two days out of her way to avoid an area that signs said had a group of survivors. There was no way to know for sure if the people who'd put those signs up were still alive without actually looking for them, and there was absolutely no way she was doing that. She was done with people, done with distractions. The only thing that mattered was getting to Atlanta, to the CDC.

They might be close to finding a cure.

There was only one walker near the back of the gas station and she dispatched it quickly and quietly with a swift swing of her sword. The high quality samurai sword was the only thing she had left of the supplies Angel had given her when she and Spike had stopped in LA for a couple nights, until it became painfully obvious that staying in a big city was not the safest option. They made it out right before police and state troopers began to try and lock down the city in a failed attempt to contain what was happening. She was by no means a sword master but Spike had been able to teach her enough to be able to safely use it, or more accurately he'd taught her how to slash at the walkers and remove a head or limbs if necessary. It was enough to keep herself alive at any rate.

Sword still in hand she started around the opposite side to the front stooping to pick up a small rock on her way. The front of the store had four large windows, two on both sides of the glass door. She couldn't see any walkers inside but that didn't mean they weren't in their. She could see blackened smears on the floor that were probably the remains of some one being attacked, but no body. Seeing no body were someone probably died is never a good thing. It meant that whoever it was was probably walking around waiting to find someone nice to eat.

Slowly she eased the door open as quietly as she could and wedged the little rock into the gap between the bottom of the door and the ground. Once she was sure the door would stay open she half stepped in just far enough that she could smack the closest metal fixture with her sword, noise was always the best way to attract a walker, three loud cracks and then she stepped back out. Raising her sword to a ready stance she stood quietly and waited, she didn't have to wait long.

A single walker came out from behind one of the back rows and started ambling towards her. Based on his lumbering limp she figured someone had taken a pretty big chunk out of him when he was still alive leaving his left leg little more than bone and torn ligaments. As he got closer she could make out a name tag on his white polo shirt, an employee then. He had barely cleared the door before she separated his head from his shoulders, it hit the floor with a wet thud. She waited for a moment to see if another walker would come out, she could hear movement, but nothing was coming. The walker must be trapped in there. There is only one way to find out for sure.

"Sorry Joey, it's nothing personal." Dawn said as she glanced down at the Walker's name tag stepping over his body and into the store. Moving carefully and keeping an eye out for any signs of danger she followed the noises to their point of origin. The walker was locked away inside the bathroom. Briefly she considered opening the door to kill the walker but then decided why bother? It was completely contained, besides she did not know how many there were inside, there could be more than one and why risk it? If the end of the world had taught her anything, it was that it's better to be safe rather than sorry, and to not waste time and energy when it wasn't necessary.

With a shrug she sheathed the sword and started to inspect the shelves for anything that might prove useful. She didn't feel to enthusiastic about what she'd find as she took in the place. It'd been gone over more than once from the looks of it and there probably wasn't anything good left. All the same she made sure to check every shelf and shift through the junk and garbage to make sure she wasn't missing anything. She managed to find a three pack of lighters that had been knocked onto the floor, a pack of spearmint gum and an almost full box of little hand warmers all of which were swiftly tucked into her backpack.

She was more than slightly disappointed when her search yielded no food, disappointed but not surprised. She'd known the gas station might be a long shot, but desperation had driven her here anyway. It had been two days since her last meal (half a package of peanuts and a can of pears) and the hunger pains were getting harder and harder to ignore. So here she was, and she still needed food.

Walking back up to the front she let herself in past the registers and sign announcing employees only. The back room was as trashed as the sales floor but there was one steel door that had a lock on it. The door had huge dents in it, someone had obviously tried and failed to break it down. That meant there might still be supplies in there.

There could be food.

That thought was still echoing in her head as she examined the pad lock. It was a simple model, not really challenging at all for her. She sent out a mental thanks to Spike as she dug out her lock picking tools. If he hadn't indulged her during her little rebellion stage after mom died she probably wouldn't even know how to pick a lock, let alone have the tools for it.

"You're still the best Spike." She muttered as she worked the lock open. She quickly stood and stuffed her lock picking tools into the small front corner of the bag before reaching out to remove the lock, then with a deep breath she reached out and pushed the door open.

Jackpot.

It was a little storage room packed with boxes. She grabbed the open one closest to her and looked inside to see it half full of twinkies. Despite how Xander had always toted about the wonders of the Twinkie she'd never really been fond of them, but that didn't stop her from ripping the wrapper off of one and shoving the whole thing into her mouth. After two days without food it taser absolutely divine, in fact it could now be rated just under her favorite food, a spinach and Jalapeño hot fudge sundae.

An hour and six Twinkies later her large hiking backpack was bulging at its seams, she couldn't fit so much as one more packet of peanuts inside. She wished she could take more if it with her, it had been ages since she'd seen so much food in one place. With a limited amount of space she had to be very particular about the items she chose to put in her backpack, which was why more than half of it was compromised of beef jerky and peanuts.

When in doubt always go for protein.

Snagging one last bag of beef jerky for the road she turned and made her way back out to the store front. Looking at the sun she judged that she had maybe four or five hours of good light left as she made her way towards the railroad tracks she'd seen on her way here. She had found that one of the best ways to travel was along a railroad tracks. They were usually out-of-the-way enough to be fairly clear, while also being developed enough to make walking along relatively easy.

On a well isolated railroad track if she could travel 20 or more miles a day in comparison to around 12 or 13 miles trekking through suburbia. Being surrounded by so many buildings there's always too many places where something could be hiding, something that you wouldn't see it was too late, it meant you had to be more cautious which slowed you down. Unfortunately freeways and what were once highly populated areas were often also the most direct route to where she needed to go. Often times when following a railroad it would take her several miles out-of-the-way before swinging back in the direction she needed it to go.

Her desire for speed and her need for safety were constantly battling each other, but she was reluctant to give up the safety of her railways before she needed to. After all, at some point in time she would have no choice but to walk down the freeway to get to Atlantic City. For now however, she was going to stick to main Railways in the northern part of Alabama. She would worry more about freeways when she got to Georgia.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The five days since she left Mike's gas and go had been very uneventful and very quiet. It left Dawn desperately wishing for some company, anyone would do really, even if it was just Buffy complaining that she borrowed her shoes again without asking. Hell, even her hated math teacher would be an improvement over the current silence.

Some music wouldn't be half bad either. Dawn had a Walkman and headphones tucked into one of the smaller pockets of the backpack. It would have made more sense to replace that with something else, something more useful. But she just couldn't find it in herself to give up the Walkman even though the batteries were dead. Besides she would feel absolutely awful if she came across batteries after getting rid of the Walkman. How would she ever be able to listen to "That's what I call music 7" again? Surely it would be a crime if she missed out on being able to listen to Nelly's "Ride wit Me". * No, all in all it was much safer to keep the Walkmen, just in case. Besides, even if it was the end of the world she was still a teenager, and teenagers always had to have their music.

It's a thing.

She had found it back when she still had Spike, before he'd been too sick too move, at a thrift store they'd raided it for warmer cloths for Dawn. He'd rolled his eyes when he saw her holding the Walkmen, asking her what she thought she needed that for, and grousing about "crazy little Birds that didn't have their priorities right", but that hadn't stopped him from adding an extra pack of batteries to his pockets when he thought she wasn't looking.

That had been one of the last good days he'd had. At first they had hoped that this virus, whatever it was, wouldn't affect him like it did the other vampires because he didn't drink human blood. She could still remember the horror she'd felt when she woke up before him one morning and saw the black veins crawling up his collarbone and realized he was sick. He'd woken up when she leaned forward and jerked up his shirt to get a better look, but he wasn't able to pull it down fast enough to keep her from seeing. His whole chest and stomach had been covered with the spidery black veins, there was no denying that he was sick and had been for at least a few days.

The world seemed to fall away as she realized that he hadn't been pushing her so hard to learn the survivalist skills he taught her just because he didn't to "do everythin by myself Bit". He'd been teaching her how to survive without him. The truth of it had left her feeling cold.

With a sigh Dawn glanced at the sky, it looked like there was only about an hour and a half maybe two hours of light left in the day. She thought it might be time to find a good place to set up camp. Veering to the left Dawn walked away from the tracks into the wooded area and began looking for a good cluster of trees that would keep her fairly well hidden from view. Once she found a spot that looked like it would suit her needs she sat sat down her backpack and pulled from one of the side pockets several lengths of string with little bells tied to them. Securing one end to a tree she wove the rest of them around the trees surrounding her makeshift campsite at knee level until the entire camp was encircled with bell covered string. The bells were not particularly large but they would be loud enough to wake her up if something tried to cross over them during the night. It was one thing to be thankful for, the fact that walkers were not particularly graceful. Well, that and the fact that she had always been a light sleeper.

She then used her hands to dig into the ground, not very deep, just enough that the fire she wanted to build would be concealed as much as possible. She wanted the heat, but she also wanted to make sure the fire wasn't visible from very far away. Everything seemed to require a delicate balance these days, even just trying to stay warm.

She curled up as close to the fire as she could without being in danger of bursting into flame herself. This time of year it wasn't really that cold at night, but when it was windy like tonight the cold seemed to cut right through you. It made her mentally wish for a tent, even though she knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep in one. She couldn't, not anymore, she didn't feel safe when she couldn't see what might be coming, it made her too paranoid to sleep. Every time the wind rustled the leaves it was a walker getting closer, every time the wind shook the sides of the tent someone was trying to get in. No, tents just weren't possible anymore. Not now.

With a slight sigh she shifted her position and let her eyes drift shut. She needed to get some sleep if she was going to make good time tomorrow. According to her handy dandy map, and her best estimation of her location, she should be crossing the Alabama Georgia state line tomorrow. Curling more onto her side she brought her sword closer, clutching to it like a child might hold a beloved stuffed animal, one hand wrapped around the sheath and the other around the hilt. It was as comforting to her as the esteemed Mr. Gordo had once been, and as she drifted off she wondered idly what fate had befallen the great Mr. Gordo.

That night she dreamed of a sword wielding, pink stuffed pig who fought off the walkers and monsters that lingered in the dark, and for the first time in months, she smiled as she slept.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

that's actually one of the songs on that CD, I looked it up.

I borrowed the way vampires get sick from True Bloods "Hep V"


	3. Chapter 3

From Bad to Worse

Disclaimer: I don't own Walking Dead or Buffy and I make no money from this fan-fiction. This is in response to a challenge issued by MistressAshley.

It's occurred to me that I should probably respond to some of your comments so here we go.

For those of you who have commented that you like the story, I'm glad you like it.

For the person complaining about my spellcheck, I can only do so much, so unless you are volunteering to help me, you're wasting my time and yours.

AllenPitt: there will be no portals to another world, this is her world for better or worse this is where she has to learn to live.

Rain Addict: unfortunately, there is no place for poor Sophie in my story.

If you have questions about the story so far, you can feel free to leave it in a review and if it doesn't ruin the plot to do so, I will answer the question for you.

Chapter 2

Realistically, she knew that the trees in Georgia would probably look exactly the same as the trees in Alabama. That hadn't kept her from thinking that she would somehow just know when she crossed from one state to the next.

She should've known better.

Dawn was pretty sure that she was in Georgia now, she just wasn't exactly sure where. She had lost track of her self when she left the railway tracks once it started to dip south. The only thing she knew for certain, thanks to her handy dandy compass, was that she was still going east.

She thought that she might still be northwest of Atlantic City, but then the question then became how far north, and how far west? She was hoping she could find some kind of small town, or landmark she could use to orientate herself before she overshot her destination too much.

A rustle of leaves had her looking away from her map and compass. What had made the sound?

A walker?

An animal maybe?

Silently, she slipped her compass back into her pocket and folded the map and placed it back in the side panel of her backpack. Instead of swinging the backpack on her back she held it loosely in her left hand just in case she needed to drop it quickly.

The sound was coming from somewhere on her right, but she couldn't see anything. Slowly she began to move forward, trying not to draw the attention of what could possibly be a threat.

THLACK!

Dawn couldn't help letting out a shout of pain as a bear trap clamped shut over her left ankle. Instantly she dropped to the ground her leg no longer able to support her weight through the pain. It hurt, so much more than when Glory had grabbed her wrist and threatened to break it.

With her heart hammering in her chest she reached forward and tried to pry the trap open. Even with the adrenaline flooding her body to give her strength, she still wasn't strong enough to pull it open.

She was trapped.

As she was trying to fight down the rising wave of hysteria, a walker stepped into her field of view.

She sat completely frozen for a moment as it shuffled towards her. Frank disbelief replaced the hysteria that had only moments ago threatened to consume her. After everything she had been through, after everything she had survived, she was going to be eaten by a walker because she couldn't get out of this stupid bear trap?

As the walker lumbered closer, disbelief was replaced by yet another emotion.

Anger.

She was a Summers, she was the slayers sister, there was no way in hell this walker was going to get the best of her.

Fumbling around behind her, she managed to grab the handle of her sword and pull it loose just as the Walker knelt down beside her. It was close enough for her to smell it's rancid breath as she swung at it's neck. Unfortunately, swinging a samurai sword from a sitting position comes with more than a few disadvantages, which was quickly realized as her swing went wide and the sword was wedged into his collarbone.

A wound like that would have put a human out for the count, however, besides knocking it down it hardly affected the walker. Dawn lacked the strength to pull the sword free from her current position, so instead she tried to use the sword to hold the walker in place while her other hand dug frantically at the backpack. Storing her Swiss army pocketknife in one of the little side zipper pockets had never seemed like such a bad idea, until now.

Her hand managed to close around the handle of the pocketknife just as the Walker was crawling on top of her, it's teeth snapping dangerously close to her neck. There was absolutely no hesitation as she snapped it open and plunged it through his right eye socket. The Walker went rigid momentarily, and then fell limply on top of her.

On one hand, she was still alive, so, Yay. On the other hand, she was now covered in gross drippy walker.

Seriously could her day get any worse?

As she was trying to shove the Walker off of her, she froze hearing more footsteps coming her way.

Apparently, things could still get worse.

She still had no leverage to get her sword free of the walkers collarbone, so instead she pushed the walker of and pulled out the pocketknife grimacing at the eyeball the came with it.

"So gross." She muttered.

She flicked her wrist sharply causing the eye to slide off the knife.

Why did Walker's have to be so disgusting?

Rolling her eyes at herself, she turned to look towards the approaching Walker. Ready too dispatched this one as well.

When instead, the biggest man she had ever seen stepped into the little clearing, she was not certain that it was an improvement. She tightened her hand on the knife and put on her most severe 'do not mess with me' face.

"Stop right there buddy! Don't come any closer!" Dawn snapped, trying to look as menacing as possible despite her position.

She was immensely satisfied to see him stop like a deer in the headlights, even if he was standing and holding a shotgun and she wasn't. Who'd have thought that practicing Willows 'resolve face' would be so useful.

"I don't mean you no harm miss." The man said holding up his hands in a nonthreatening manner.

"I was hunting for deer when I heard a noise I thought I should check out. If you don't mind me saying so miss, you look like you could use some help." He looked so sincerely earnest that she couldn't help but want to believe him. Still . . .

"How do I know that you aren't some kind of creeper? For all I know you could be the person who put this bear trap here."

"Oh no ma'am, not me. These here traps probably belong to old man Clayton. County has been after him for ages about putting these out, it's illegal in these parts. But, I do know how to work 'em I could get'chya loose." He said earnestly.

Dawn scrutinized him for a moment before nodding.

"Don't get any ideas buddy." Dawn said, waving her knife slightly to get her point across.

As he was kneeling down to examine the bear trap, she couldn't help but wonder how good of a hunter he could really be. How did he ever manage to hit a target with such a severe lazy eye?

She couldn't see what he was doing, but there was a loud clicking noise as he deactivated the trap, allowing her to pull her poor abused ankle from its vice like grip.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." He smiled slightly as he looked around the clearing, "Are you out here by yourself?"

"Does it matter?"

He looked slightly surprised by her response, though if it was at her words or her tone she couldn't say. He shifted from foot to foot looking like he was trying to decide if he should say what he wanted to or not. As ridiculous as it was, she got the impression that he was worried about what she'd do to him if he said the wrong thing, despite the fact that he was more than twice her size. And armed with a freaking shotgun.

"It's just that you shouldn't be alone with an injury like that. Do you have anyone too look after you while your ankle heals?"

Dawn bit her tongue too keep in the first sarcastic answer that popped into her head, he hadn't done anything to deserve that. He'd been nothing but kind and helpful, besides, despite her adrenaline fueled paranoia, she just didn't see him being capable of deceit. His face was too open and honest.

With a small sigh she just shook her head, as much as she'd been Wonder Woman these last few weeks, she didn't think her tube of Neosporin would be enough to take care of her ankle. She needed help, so she just needed to just suck it up and play nice for a while, then she could be on her way.

"If you come with me to Herschels farm he'll fix you up, and you'll be good as new in no time. He and his girls have plenty of room up there, you wouldn't be puttin no one out." He said.

"Alright, but I don't plan on staying. I have places to go."

At his nod she reached up and let him grab hold of her right hand too haul her up to her feet. He stepped closer letting her swing an arm across his shoulders to help keep the weight off her injured ankle.

"My names Dawn."

She was concentrating on walking without falling, so she didn't see him smile at her absent minded introduction.

"I'm Otis."

###############################################

She should have left days ago, when Herschel had smilingly declared her ankle to be good as new. And yet, here she was, still at the farm instead of almost to Atlanta. She didn't know how many times she'd told herself 'I'll leave tomorrow' only to push tomorrow back 'one more day' like a world class procrastinator.

Herschel had convinced her to stay until her ankle was completely healed, instead of leaving the moment he secured the bandage and brace around her ankle. At first she'd been reticent, not wanting to get close to anyone, or get too used to this place that seemed oddly untouched by the new reality of their world. It would only make leaving harder. For a while she managed to keep everyone at arms length, but then somehow, without her even realizing what was happening, Herschel and his daughters wormed their way past her defenses.

So, instead of leaving this morning, she put it off for one more day, as she allowed Beth to talk her into helping with her chores. They were almost done pulling cloths down from the line when Herschel walked up.

"Beth, will you please go help Maggie with the chickens. I'll help Dawn finish up here." He said, smiling kindly in that way he had that said he wanted a moment alone with Dawn.

"Sure." Dropping the shirt in her hand onto the pile of folded cloths she shot a quick smile at Dawn before heading around the house.

The next several minutes where filled with silence as they worked at unloading the rest of the clothing lines. She knew he was trying to give her her space, and that he was waiting for her to break the silence, to show she was ready to talk, but she just couldn't. He, like his daughters, wanted her to stay. He'd brought up the subject once before, though he hadn't pushed once she made it clear that wasn't what she wanted. Even so, her willpower was not infinite, and she worried that she might eventually give in if given to many opportunities.

"I noticed that you have packed all your things."

"Yeah, I'm leaving in the morning." Dawn said straightening the pile of clothes closest to her to avoid looking at Herschel.

"I know you've made up your mind Dawn, and I'm not trying to tell you otherwise, it's not my place to do so, but I want you to know that there is always a place for you here with us. If you want it."

With that said Herschel grabbed the largest laundry basket and headed inside, sparing Dawn the effort of trying to reply around the newly formed lump in her throat. She could never quite figure out how to act around him. She respected him certainly, and was even cautiously fond of him, but the lack of older male role models in her life left to clueless on how she should interact with him, which left her feeling uncomfortable and uncertain on how to react to the concern and kindness he directed towards her. It was almost like. . .

Dawn shook her head and pushed the half-formed thought from her mind. It wasn't a road she wanted to go down. Not now, not ever.

With a sigh she plopped down on the ground in front of her basket, and laid-back to look at the sky. She'd already put off leaving today, she might as well put off putting away thee cloths too.

Watching the clouds move across the sky she wondered idly when Otis would be back. Oddly enough, she had quickly formed a friendship with the gentle giant, he was like a larger, male version of Tara. Gentle and caring, he always seemed so careful when interacting with other people, like he was worried he might hurt them being so much bigger than almost everyone else. At first she had thought it was conditioned behavior, but after knowing him longer she knew that it was just the way he was. He didn't have a cruel bone in his body.

Sometimes, when seeing everyone so happy hurt too much, she would slip away to a quiet part of the farm and just sit there, too broken to interact with normal people any longer. That is when Otis would show up. He wouldn't try to engage her in conversation, or ask her any questions, he would just talk. He talked about learning how to track and hunt, he talked about his family, he talked about the area they were in and how long he had known everyone. He would tell funny stories, sad stories, and just about every kind of story in between. And slowly, she started to tell some of her stories, even some the not so happy ones. It helped to talk about some of the things she been through, even if she couldn't tell him everything, and she looked forward to hearing his stories every night. It worried her sometimes, how attached she had gotten to Otis, how attached she had gotten to everyone, and yet, it seemed impossible to keep her distance.

A shout brought her out of her thoughts with a jerk, and she jumped to her feet too see what was wrong just as Herschel came back out the front door. There were two men she had never met running past the fence and up the walk towards the house, with Otis behind them struggling to keep up.

"Please, help us. My son Carl, he's been shot."

"Bring him inside. Dawn, if you're willing to help I need you inside, he might need a blood transfusion him."

"Yeah, I'll be right there." Dawn said turning to look at Otis who had just stopped by her huffing and puffing and looking more out of sorts than she had ever seen.

"What happened?"

"It was an accident, I swear it was. I didn't see 'em. I'd have never shot that deer if I knew he was there." He said, sounding anguished, "God, do you think he'll make it?".

"Being here with Herschel is probably his best chance," Dawn said reassuringly. "And we all know you would never shoot someone on purpose."

Before Dawn could say anything else to try and comfort Otis, Maggie ran out the door and told Dawn they needed her now, the little boy had lost a lot of blood.

"We'll talk later," Dawn said with a forced smile, "right now it looks like I need to go spread around a little bit of my O negative blood."

Herschel had patched her up when she'd been injured, it only seemed right that she do what she could to help him patch up the next patient.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #


End file.
